


Fancy some chips?

by SleeplessinWiltshire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reworking the whole going out for chips thing, What on earth was she thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleeplessinWiltshire/pseuds/SleeplessinWiltshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always feel frustrated that Molly didn't spend the evening eating chips with Sherlock so here's my version .......<br/>This is my first fanfiction.  I've posted a little of this on tumblr over the past couple of days and no one completely hated it so I'm being brave and giving it a whirl here too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I would be mad not too - right?

Suddenly Molly couldn’t’ stand the miserable predictable propriety of watching Sherlock walk of down the street away from her and she yelled at him before she’d thought it through at all.

“Sherlock!”

He stopped and turned round looking interested and quizzical.

“Can I change my mind?” she bellowed. Looking a bit sheepish and surprised at her own impulsiveness.

“About which thing? Asked Sherlock with an amused look on this face. This stumped Molly who wasn’t sure which thing she, or in fact he, meant. But she blurted out “chips”, before more revealing options could emerge. 

“O………..K……………, are you sure? It didn’t seem such a good idea a couple of minutes ago.”

“Sherlock, if my engagement means I can’t go and have chips or spend the day with one of my very dearest friends, then perhaps there is something pretty wrong with my new life. Come on let’s go. Make me laugh, deduce something sweet and funny and harmless about someone – I need cheering up.” 

“I’m not asked to cheer someone up very often! Well I’m all for trying. Chips it is!” said Sherlock as he grinned at her slightly unnervingly, suddenly linked arms with her and set up at a very fast march that she struggled to keep up with but very definitely cheered her up.

…………………………………..

When they finally made it to Sherlock’s preferred chippy a good half an hour later Molly was out of breath and her calves ached but she and Sherlock had chatted and laughed all the way and that terrible sensation of ending and farewell that had submerged her earlier had all but gone.

“Well, here we are – chips it is” said Sherlock as he opened the door of the old fashioned chip shop. Molly was feeling positively giddy by this point and before she knew it she was flirting with Sherlock as if he was a normal bloke – “aren’t you going to offer me a battered sausage” she said batting her eyelashes and grinning up at him. Sherlock did a double take as he deconstructed the innuendo and computed the unusual experience of seeing the saucy flirt side of Molly. 

After a few moments of awkward silence, while Sherlock pondered what on earth would be a suitable response, he finally managed to work out what might work in this circumstances. “You gave me the impression that you’d already had one earlier!” and looked very pleased with himself as Molly snorted out a laugh.  
After that they settled down to a more normal, well normal for them, conversation and happily ate their supper and continued their argument about decomposition rates. 

As they parted afterwards Sherlock flagged down a cab for Molly and held the door open for her with a flourish. Molly took her courage in her hands and stood up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful day and a lovely evening Sherlock. I meant what I said earlier, I don’t’ want my friendships to be spoilt by my new relationship – I will always want to be your friend”. And with that she quickly plopped back on to the seat before Sherlock could respond. Leaving a slightly surprised Sherlock touching his cheek with an odd look on his face.

………………………………………………………………………….

Sherlock stood and watched as Molly’s cab sped off, thinking about the day and unusual moments there had been between them that evening. There was no doubt that the drama of her helping him disappear and two year hiatus that he’d then imposed upon them had somehow created an new intimacy, a heightened sense of connection. Certainly the bold kiss on the cheek was a major departure but not an unwelcome one. It was odd and new for him but the day and the evening had both been enjoyable for Sherlock despite his worries about John’s continuing fury at him.

Not for the first time, Sherlock wondered what Molly’s new fiancé was like, quickly banishing thoughts of variations on a theme of Moriarty from his head. Now there it was. A thought he always ran away from. He wondered what had really occurred between Molly and ‘Jim from IT’ who Molly had been so certain wasn’t gay. 

Flickering images of Moriarty and Molly in a series of increasingly intimate situations ran through Sherlock’s mind – him pulling her head back with a handful of hair and kissing her neck, him holding her hands down above her head as he loomed above her – each image increasingly more steamy. Sherlock almost shouted out ‘no’, as he forced himself away from these shocking images. It was hard to reconcile the Molly he knew with the Moriarty he had met.

Sherlock felt faintly sick with a mix of revulsion and terror at what might have happened and he had to admit some extremely unsavoury curiosity too.  
“Anyway”, he thought, “if Molly’s new man looks like he’s shaping up as a criminal mastermind I shall be on the lookout for it this time!” And with that he turned and headed off towards Baker Street as his thoughts returned to the mystery of the disappearing underground train car and Mycroft’s terrorist plot fears.

………………………………………………………………………..

Molly sat in her cab feeling elated from her time with Sherlock – they had never spent such a long, or as playful, a time together – and she had to admit she had adored almost every minute of it. He was, to quote one of the films that Sherlock would probably deride her for loving, completely her ‘particular brand of heroin’. 

With that her thoughts turned guiltily to Tom. Not for the first time since Sherlock’s return did she wonder if she’d been rash in accepting his proposal. He was sweet and good fun but she had to confess that she did find him a bit dull sometimes. The normality of it all stifling – how much football, beer, telly, dog walking could or should a life contain. Let alone her life. It’s true the normality was alluring after a day of negotiating so much darkness, even if that very darkness was the stock-in-trade of any pathologist worth their salt. She was, however, also a lover of flowers, kittens, sun, laughing, kissing and baking – none of it gothic or tense. Perhaps she would never find a partner who could share both sides of her nature and Tom was doing a pretty good job at entertaining the sunnier side of her wants and needs. She just wondered how big a compromise she was making in terms of the other more complicated aspects of what made her tick. 

Still - Tom was a good man. A million miles from Jim as well as a million miles from Sherlock. Tom wouldn’t ever threaten those she loved, even if he would also never make her heart, mind and body thrill with delight the way that Sherlock had today. Besides, she thought sensibly, she needed a man who actually wanted her body as well as her mind – and Tom very definitely seemed to like her body! Something she suspected Sherlock often forget she had – apart from the occasionally derogatory focus on her mouth or breasts in the past.


	2. What were you thinking Molly?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock isn't very impressed when he meets Tom. I'm not sure if some of the imagery takes this beyond teen so I've upped the category.

After that day, both Molly and Sherlock got caught up in their own lives and didn’t cross paths much until the day Molly brought Tom round to Baker St with her for celebratory drinks. She was thrilled to be asked and to be reunited with all her old friends now that the awful secret she had carried for two awful years was behind them all. Also, bringing Tom was like a shield against some of the humiliating memories of the Christmas Sherlock deduced her – he was living proof that she wasn’t a complete doormat. However, she also confessed to herself that Tom was also there as a shield against her own desires and wants with regard to Sherlock. Tom would keep her safe.

…………………………………………………………..

Sherlock’s shock at meeting Tom was intense. 

Tom’s appearance was a visceral statement of Molly’s addiction to Sherlock, one that everyone in the room, except Molly and perhaps Tom, could see. He felt bad for Molly, and appalling about himself. How could he have left such a sweet gentle woman with such a Sherlock shaped scar in her psyche?

He was aware that he’d allowed John to get the impression that the similarities between he and Tom had amused him but that was very far from the truth. He felt a strong combination of guilt at the indelible imprint he seemed to have left on Molly but also a strong sense of outrage that a shallow copy was occupying a space that was apparently shaped only for him. The connection between he and Molly was about more than how he wore his scarf. He almost felt angry with Molly for not recognising what was happening, he felt somehow cheapened by it.

As that thought grew in Sherlock’s mind the space that he felt was ‘his’ was explored in snippets of memory and imagination. He remembered the kiss Molly had given him after their day together – and imagined that kiss moving from his cheek and down his neck in a series of little delicate pecks and the little kisses turning to gentle nips. He imagined Molly pulling Tom down for a passionate kiss but imagined himself as the recipient. He imagined Moriarty poised above Molly with her pupils blown wide in desire, or perhaps fear, and then imagined himself in the same position, buried deep, marking his territory in the most intimate way possible.

It was all new and confusing for him and an intense distraction from his fears about who was targeting him and John and fear about what John’s marriage would mean for their friendship and ‘the work’. But unusually for Sherlock he didn’t file his thoughts about Molly away, he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to do with them either, so this muddle of resentment, curiosity, fear and supressed desire turned and twisted at the back of his mind as he strode out to meet the media with John.


	3. You look well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are definitely changing in Sherlock's mind.

He’d been popping into Barts quite often since their day of crime solving and chips but hadn’t spent much time with Molly for a few weeks when he popped in to talk about the drinking schedule for the stag night.

Molly was in a playful mood and he was thoroughly enjoying her company when he remembered that friends cared about their friends’ lives. So he made the mistake of saying she looked ‘well’, well what he wanted to say was ‘glowing’ or ‘peachy’ or something else disgustingly soppy. He also asked after her fiancé. He even remembered the bloody man’s name. But that was a mistake too, instantly Molly starting plucking on the heart strings he preferred to pretend he didn’t have. 

“Not a sociopath.”

“Still? Good.”

“And we’re having quite a lot of sex.”

Sherlock managed to school his face into a suitable expression of nonplussed slight embarrassment but the truth was he was plunged right back into images of Molly with her head thrown back, gasping in delight and sighing his name – not Tom’s, his. 

Sherlock shoved all the dangerous unwelcome thoughts back into the part of his mind they’d escaped from and quickly moved on to discussing the detail of blood alcohol ratios and timing. It seemed that too much time with Molly was a bit high risk these days. So much for her thinking she was a harmless mouse. Yes he’d even read her bloody blog – for God’s sake he was getting sentimental these days.


	4. The fork incident.......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few realisations take place during the nuptials...........

Sherlock was acutely aware of Molly watching him at John and Mary’s wedding. 

She looked like an anxious buttercup in her bright yellow dress and silly bow as she sat amongst his adopted family of Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. Tom seemed ever more the cuckoo, rather a dim cuckoo at that, in Sherlock’s nest just as much as John’s old broken military father figure. It was funny how Mary didn’t feel like that to him. Maybe he was half in love with Mary himself. Well he certainly loved the warmth and compassion she offered both him and John. 

 

Soon the drama of the day – the unexpected delight of an attempted murder to liven up the dreaded wedding and the shock of realising that Mary was pregnant – began to wind down and Sherlock felt a wave of ennui hit him as he scanned the floor for someone to dance with. Even the bold and flirtatious Janine was already following up on his man hunting ‘intel’ and Molly was dutifully bopping with Tom. There was no one there for him anymore – well not tonight. Mycroft’s mocking words earlier in the day echoed back at him. Maybe the whole friends ‘thing’ was simply beyond him, a mirage that was finally evaporating.

 

Carefully Sherlock slipped through the crowds and found his coat and headed out into the night. Feeling his aloneness acutely – trying to find the old purity and safety that it once stood for but failing miserably. The thought of narcotic escape hadn’t looked this appealing for a long time. Sherlock tried to throw off thoughts of the seductive dragon shaped lure of temporary oblivion that slinked through his mind blowing aromatic puffs of toxic smoke at him provocatively.

 

……………………………………………………….

 

Molly was aware that in between displays of extra enthusiastic affection for Tom she was gazing at Sherlock for much of the evening. 

 

The roller coaster ride offered by his best man’s speech had had her on edge long before today but the thing itself surpassed both her greatest hopes and fears for him. The combination of that plus an attempted murder thrown in was beyond parody but perhaps it was the heavens rewarding Sherlock for his contrition at the way he, at last, realised he had hurt John and all those who loved him.

 

She would have said the final straw for her was Sherlock’s relaxed banter with Janine the bloody head bridesmaid, who Molly had already decided she hated on the Hen Night, and it could have been when Sherlock played the violin so beautifully she had to hold herself back from weeping, but the final straw actually arrived when she saw him searching for a dancing partner and she was unable to go to him.

 

She felt as though Sherlock was dragging her after him as he left the dance floor – like gravity or the pull of a black hole. She thought she might scream at the dutiful anchor of common sense and courtesy that kept her where she was.  
She felt as if he had never needed her more than he did in that moment, except perhaps that night he came to her for help in eluding Moriarty. She was terrified that tonight he might slip back into his old ways, unable to cope with John’s new life and seduced by the need for a fix of temporary forgetfulness. She knew only too well that Sherlock constantly teetered on the brink of relapse.

 

Suddenly Molly couldn’t bear it anymore, not the humiliation of the comparison between Tom and Sherlock or the intense resentment she felt at not being able to follow her heart out of that door after Sherlock.

 

In an instant her mind was made up. 

 

“Tom, I’ve got to go after him. I’m worried what he’s going to do.”

 

“What on earth do you mean? He’s a grown up. He doesn’t need you to babysit him no matter how bonkers he is” snarked Tom grumpily. 

It was only today that he had really appreciated the hold Sherlock had over Molly and he wasn’t at all happy about it. The fork incident was just the final jigsaw piece in that and he felt that a big discussion was due between them in the very near future.

 

Molly sensed all this but simply decided that she didn’t give a proverbial toss anymore.

 

“Sorry, Tom, I’ll call you tomorrow. There’s a mini bus coming at 12 to take everyone back to London, you’ve got a place booked on it, “and with that she rushed off out of the door and after Sherlock.

 

…………………………………………………..

 

Once again Molly found herself shouting and running after Sherlock. He was sitting on a low stone wall smoking a cigarette and gazing up at the stars. He lowered his gaze and slowly turned to her. “What are you doing out here Molly? You’ll freeze in that scrap of dress.“ 

 

“I was worried about you Sherlock, why did you leave?” she said as realised the truth in his words as she began to shiver.

 

“I’m fine, nothing a bit of distance won’t fix. I’m just waiting for a taxi, I’ve done my bit today and saved a life. That’s enough isn’t it?” he said with a slight sigh. He stood and shrugged his coat off and wrapped in round her shoulders as he looked down at her with one of his patented blank looks.

 

“Can I come back in your taxi with you?” Molly asked looking him directly in the eye. “I don’t want to go back with Tom and I’d really appreciate the lift.” 

 

Sherlock’s expression changed to one of concern. “What’s happened Molly?”

 

“You need company tonight, I need company tonight – it’s not complicated” she said defiantly.

 

“OK. I’m not sure I’ll be much use to you – I can’t exactly give you relationship advice! But you’re welcome to the company, such as it is.” With that the taxi arrived, one of those beat up old black cabs that someone had obviously painted purple in the past and no one out in the sticks minded enough to ever replace it or repaint it. Molly laughed as they got into their purple transportation and felt as if the night was moving from torment to surreal comedy as they headed off.

 

“Actually Sherlock, where are we going? The mini bus is taking a whole group back to London, but that’s a long way in a taxi – is that what you’ve arranged?” Suddenly she was worried about how much cash she had on her.

 

“Relax Molly, I’m headed to my parents’ house. It’s not far away.” Sherlock shrugged as he spoke.

 

“Oh God, I can’t just turn up at your parents unannounced, I better go back to the wedding” she rushed out in a panic. She had never met Sherlock’s parents but the very thought terrified her. Although she hadn’t thought about the logistics when she rushed after him, she guessed that she’d been hoping to have a few cups of tea and maybe a whisky with Sherlock before heading home herself if he seemed ok.

 

“It’s fine Molly, they’ll either be asleep and we can sit by the fire or they’ll be awake and so staggered that I’ve brought a woman back with me that they’ll forget to speak as they’ll be so busy rolling out the red carpet. You’ll be fine.” He turned to look at her as he spoke, rolling his eyes as he described his parents imagined response.

 

“I don’t want to cause you any problems Sherlock I really can go back” she fretted. 

 

“Molly, please stop fussing, I’ve said it’s not a problem, and it isn’t. I’m actually very glad to have your company and my parents will no doubt be revoltingly charming” just calm down he said as he patted her knee as if she were an anxious whippet or a fractious toddler.

 

Molly made herself stop talking and resolved to just enjoy whatever the next few hours offered her in terms of insight into Sherlock. She pulled his coat further round her as she realised once again that the temperature had really plummeted after the beautiful spring day they had so enjoyed.

 

Sherlock continued to gaze out of the window as he wordlessly put his arm round her and pulled her to his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to warm her up. Molly jumped initially but decided not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth and settled herself against him – just about containing a little sigh of pleasure.

 

“We’ll be there soon Molly and we’ll get the fire on and find you something warmer to wear – you’re almost naked in that dress no wonder you’re cold. Women’s clothes are so impractical.”

 

Molly blushed at the very mention of her being naked, particularly as she was currently tucked up close against him. But since she was being so bold this evening kept her thoughts to herself and just continued to enjoy the novelty of the situation.


	5. All snuggled up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's enjoying this taxi ride as much as Molly.

Sherlock was trying to ignore how much he was enjoying having Molly all to himself, tucked up in his coat and his arm. She was so petite that she fit snugly against him. He rather wished he was still wearing the coat so he could have pulled her right against him but his likely physical response to that might have rather given the game away so perhaps it was best as things were.

 

He had been debating giving his parents a heads up that he was bringing company. Part anticipating the amusement of surprising them and part wanting to spare Molly unnecessary sensationalism by his mother. The cautious part won over and he texted his father with a quick – BRINGING FRIEND HOME TO STAY, LONG STORY, NO FUSS PLEASE, LIGHT FIRE IF POSSIBLE, TEA GOOD. 

 

The taxi turned off down a dark lane and Sherlock announced that they were nearly there. Molly pulled away regretfully but didn’t offer Sherlock his coat back – she wasn’t feeling that noble and was luxuriating in the fabulous sensation of being enveloped in the delicious smell of him – damp wool, cologne, cigarettes and whatever else make up the amazing cocktail of scents she was enjoying.

 

Soon they arrived at a red painted stone cottage. It was beautiful but not at all ostentatious and Molly once again tried to imagine what Sherlock’s parents and family home were going to be like. She just couldn’t picture where Mycroft and Sherlock could possibly have sprung from!

 

As they pulled up, the front door opened and out stepped two smiling people with very curious expressions. They looked completely normal – and Molly relaxed a fraction as she steeled herself to leave the taxi.


	6. Very cosy indeed

Sherlock’s parents stood smiling waiting for him to make the next move.

“Do hurry up Molly, we’ll all have frozen to death if you don’t get a move on” he chided as Molly clambered out of the taxi grasping Sherlock’s long coat to her and trying not to trip.

 

Sherlock’s Mother took one look and spotted the small woman following Sherlock up the path to the house and a huge smile broke out on her face.   
Before she could say anything, Sherlock announced very firmly, “Mummy, Daddy – I’d like to introduce you to my friend Dr Molly Hooper – the best pathologist in London. She’s had a row with her fiancé so we’re going to drink too much in front of the fire. I trust that won’t inconvenience you.”

 

Molly was slightly taken aback that he’d made that assumption, although it was of course partly true, and also that he had a plan – no matter how sketchy.  
“Yes of course dear, do come in and let’s find Molly something a little less cumbersome to keep her warm than your enormous coat. I do hope you get that coat cleaned sometimes dear, I loath to imagine the things you must drag it through.” Drawled his very posh sounding and very pretty mother – turning to give Molly a quick grin. 

 

“I do hope the wicked boy is being polite and considerate – poor you, a row at a wedding. However in my experience weddings often make other couples fight. Anyway, do come in. The kettle is on and the fire is lit as per his worship’s instructions!” and with that she gently cuffed the back of Sherlock’s head and ruffled his hair and headed inside. Sherlock simply narrowed his eyes and made a slight grumbling sound.

 

Sherlock’s father smiled and shook hands and showed them inside. He emanated a type of calm that Molly imagined must have been rather helpful in a house containing both a young Sherlock and a young Mycroft not to mention what appeared to be a very formidable wife.

 

Molly stepped nervously into the house and saw what was a warm friendly cluttered and entirely normal house and took a deep breath, amazed at the turn her evening had taken.

 

Soon she was bundled up in a cashmere cardigan and wrap and under a rug on the sofa with a huge mug of tea in her hand as she watched Sherlock stoking the fire that blazed in log burner. Sherlock’s parents had scurried around getting them comfortable. 

 

“I’ve made up the bed in Mycroft’s room if you need it” was his mother’s last comment as she gave Sherlock a knowing look in response to which he huffed and ignored her.

 

Finally they were alone and Molly hoped that Sherlock would join her on the small sofa.

 

Molly watched Sherlock as he crouched in front of the fire. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and was just in his shirt sleeves and his beautiful sharply defined back muscles showed clearly against the fabric. Molly reflected that he was the most attractive thing she had ever seen – with his inky curls, jewel-like eyes and exquisite long fingers. She swore that sometimes she was actually hard put not to drool when she looked at him. Tonight that was particularly the case. She was sure he would be able to take one look at her and tell how aroused she felt. It was particularly shaming not to be able to hide that from him. Sometimes she felt as though she actually got turned on just sitting next to him in the path lab. Her reaction to him was so intense it could almost be classed as a medical condition. 

 

Sherlock broke her chain of thought by walking over and sitting next to her and pouring himself a whiskey. “Something stronger to go with your tea?” he offered.

 

“Yes, please – I need a drink” Molly muttered.

 

“Me too” he echoed as he poured her a large whiskey and dropped a couple of ice cubes in from the nearby ice bucket that he’d managed to gather together without her noticing as they settled in.

 

“Would you like ginger ale with that too?” he asked, yet again demonstrating a knowledge of her preferences that she could never quite believe.


	7. Some cards are unexpectedly laid on the table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock fesses up a bit, much to Molly's surprise.

Once her drink was fixed, Sherlock moved close to Molly and focussed closely on her. “So tell me how you are. I know some of this is about your worrying about me, but what about you? What’s happened with Tom? Are you okay? Can I help?” all of this rushed out as if Sherlock as trying to rattle off a list of things he’d prepared to ensure he didn’t fail her. 

 

Molly felt unbelievably touched that he cared enough to try and get this right.

“Sherlock, I didn’t want to dance with Tom tonight, I wanted to dance with you. You were looking for a dance partner, you looked lonely and I wasn’t allowed to go to you. Tom would have been angry. That’s not what I want in my life. I don’t want rules about what I do and how I behave. I don’t want to be censored or controlled. I just don’t fucking want it! No amount of slightly better than average sex will make up for that loss of freedom!” she ranted with unexpected venom.

 

“Oh, ah, I see. Sorry” was all the rather out of his depth Sherlock could offer.  
“Sorry, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. But you did ask”, said Molly at once regretting the honesty of her outburst.

 

“You do know, I’d make the world’s worst romantic partner. Can you imagine the scope for error!” said Sherlock feeling sad and guilty at his inability to make Molly happy. “But I don’t think I could bear it if you settled for someone who wasn’t enough for you, someone who couldn’t make you happy. You’re too brilliant and good and lovely for that Molly Hooper. It would be a tragedy for you to settle for less than that.” Sherlock managed to get out.

 

“Goodness this has got intense rather fast” Molly added feeling rather bold as so many cards had been unexpectedly placed upon the table. “You know, I don’t think you or anyone has any idea what sort of romantic partner you would make. I get the impression you’ve never tried.” She added cautiously. “Anyway I’m not sure what this has to do with me and Tom.” She added as she lost courage and tried to steer away from dangerous conversational waters.

 

“Look Molly, it’s late, you’re sad, we are both going to get slightly drunk and we have a lovely fire. Let’s be honest. It really does have a bit to do with me does it not?” 

 

“Flipping heck, Sherlock, what’s got in to you! Do you really want to have this conversation? There’s nowhere to run if it gets embarrassing”.

 

“Molly – yes let’s have this conversation. We won’t need to run away. It’s been a while in the making don’t you think? More whiskey?”

 

“Yes definitely more whiskey please” as she held her glass out towards Sherlock, the hand now slightly shaking.

 

“Right Molly – you see I know you find me attractive. I’ve always known. It’s complicated for you as we’re very well suited in so many ways and yet I’ve been an utter bastard, a complete sod. Unfeeling, rude, manipulative, ungrateful and yet also really dependent on you - your expertise yes, but also your companionship. Also, you’ve literally saved my life. What a cocktail of feelings. And that’s without the physical effect I can see that I have on you. Also, if I confess it, it’s also without the physical effect you sometimes have on me. It’s all a complete toxic melee of competing needs and wants and desires. God knows if there is a sane healthy way out. At least one that could involve me. I’m trouble Molly.”

 

“Did you say I have a physical effect on you” Molly got straight to the point.

 

Sherlock laughed “trust you to fix on that bit first! Yes, I did say that!”

 

“Explain!”

 

“Why is it always about bloody hormones with people! Yes, yes, yes – you appeal to me Molly. I can see when I get to you. When your pupils dilate, when you look as if you want to take a bite out of me. I can see it Molly. And sometimes it makes me want to respond. There feel any better? I suspect not. Just more confused. Right?” Sherlock sighed and ran his hands through his hair wondering where on earth this conversation could go that would make anyone feel better.


	8. In which Sherlock flirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What on earth has got into him?

“Sherlock, have you ever had a relationship?” ask Molly very cautiously, trying to contain her desire to tackle Sherlock to the floor following his last amazing declaration.

 

“Well it depends what you mean. I’ve got some dear friends who I love – these are definitely relationships. But if you really mean sex – then yes I indulged in casual pissed up sex at university and for a while afterwards – but that was about curiosity and inebriation not relationships. I liked the sex, it was a challenge to master a new skill, just like the violin or dancing – all about the combination of knowledge, practice, and attention to detail, concentration, control and a bit of manual dexterity!” He said with what can only be described as a very wicked smirk. 

“I mean you’ve seen me play the violin – my martellato, spiccato and legato are all excellent, not to mention my pizzicato.” He added with a very loud laugh. “I think having rather long fingers helps……….. with the violin that is!” he added with a raised eyebrow and another laugh.

 

Molly’s eyes must have been out of stalks by that point because he couldn’t resist adding “and I’m pretty good at the tango too – so yes it was all quite fun to master. However, ultimately pretty unimportant I always thought.”

 

Molly gulped slightly at this description and felt the need to cross her legs – which made Sherlock huff out another laugh and look up at her through his eyelashes in a very un-Sherlockish fashion.

 

“Sherlock, are you flirting!” Molly blurted out as she realised what he might be up to.

 

“I might be!” he answered in a tone that Molly might have described as sniggering if it hadn’t been Sherlock.

 

“So what changed?” Molly asked, for much as all the flirtatious nonsense was positively addictive, she was determined to try and understand more about the enigma that was Sherlock.

 

“To be honest, Mycroft was so scathing of what he called ‘my banal and unhygienic dabbling with the non-cerebral’ that it was in the end a complete turn-off and also it was very much associated with a life style I have tried to leave behind. It became my principle to keep my mind pure and free from distractions. And it’s been broadly successful bar a small number of lapses, but I’ve been discreet and Mycroft thinks I’m terrified of sex these days. Little does he know!”

 

Molly was longing to quiz him on these lapses but feared she wouldn’t like the answers – although her mind did stray to the woman’s body she showed Sherlock and Mycroft in the morgue that Christmas day.

 

“But don’t you miss the sex, the intimacy? For God’s sake, the plain old fashioned release?!” Molly found herself asking before she could self-edit.

 

“Well yes sometimes, but I sort it out as best I can” he replied practically and with no apparent embarrassment.

 

Molly felt hot at the thought of Sherlock undertaking any such ‘sorting out’ and completely astonished that they had ended up having this conversation.

 

Molly could see that a long circular conversation about how, regardless of desire, it was a bad idea for them to get closer was about to be embarked upon, but she really couldn’t be arsed with any more shit from anyone this evening so she threw off the cashmere wrap, put down her glass, took Sherlock’s from him and announced to the slightly taken aback Sherlock, who had thought he was in control of the playful conversation, “I’m going to kiss you and I want you to just bloody try and join in. Don’t say no! It will hurt my feelings. Just give it a bloody try.” And with that she knelt up on the sofa and wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck and slowly moved in to kiss his beautiful mouth. Sherlock froze slightly, gaze intently focussed on her mouth but he didn’t back away or protest – rather he observed.

 

Molly gently placed a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips and pulled back to look at him, “ok” he whispered back and returned the gentle kiss. 

 

“You have such a beautiful mouth you know” said Molly as if under a spell as she kissed him again and lingered against his mouth.

 

“Damage from playing the trumpet as a child I suspect”, he murmured into her mouth as he settled into the kiss.


	9. Things start getting a bit steamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodness me!

Molly gave a slight groan as Sherlock began to kiss her back properly, and she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and then invaded his mouth with her tongue. Suddenly she pulled back and dived for his neck where she nibbled and kissed and sucked sending shivers of delight through him. 

He could literally feel himself started to float on a sea of the same hormones he had been disparaging a few moments before. Like virtuous shooting up, he reflected. Perhaps he had made a fundamental error in deeming this a distraction, perhaps it was a safe alternative to other options. Although an argument for increased mental acuity might be hard to make he reflected as his whole body spasmed with delight as Molly sucked the skin just below his ear and blew softly into his ear.

 

Next she explored his ear with her mouth, sucking his earlobe and gently biting it. Sherlock felt his normal patterns and control quickly vanishing as his tightly suppressed inner animal fought its way out snarling and demanding more.

 

…………………………………….

 

Molly couldn’t quite believe that she was sat straddled across Sherlock’s lap with his tongue in her mouth both of them utterly engrossed in the string of long intense kisses they had been exchanging for what seemed the longest time. The fire was now just glowing embers and she felt tender all over from the slightly stubbly kisses and powerful clasping and stroking. Things hadn’t progressed beyond this except she could feel he was aroused beneath her. It was as if they were both scared of taking things further and also simply entranced with this turn of events.

 

Molly paused and looked Sherlock directly in the eye. He gazed back with a crinkle eyed smile – his already generous lips swollen from the very thorough kissing they had received and his hair was in the worst mess she had ever seen. Molly didn’t think she had ever seen anything as sexy. 

 

“God, Molly what have you done to me” Sherlock murmured, his deep voice making her throb. “To be honest Sherlock, I’ve hardly got started!” she laughed, making him grin at her. Molly decided she better quickly clear up the issue of Tom.

 

“Look Sherlock, generally speaking I’m not an unfaithful person, but I realised tonight that regardless of what happens with you I can’t be with Tom. I decided it earlier which is why I followed you out of the reception. I just haven’t told him yet, but I will tomorrow. I just want to be completely clear with you - and with myself too I guess.”

 

“I’d realised that much Molly, you’re good person trying to be fair and kind but you have a right to seek what makes you happy too. I don’t know what this means for you and I, but I do know that I care about you and always have.”

 

With that he nuzzled into her neck and began a series of deep almost bruising kisses that she knew would show on her skin tomorrow, it felt primal, like being marked and claimed. At the same time Sherlock’s hands move up from her waist to gently stroke the sides of her breasts, as though testing the waters to see what was allowed in a cautious game of little steps and permissions by both of them.


	10. Flipping Heck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Friday night treat for those who like smut. Hopefully it's not too luridly written. I think Sherlock and Molly are both odd ducks who tell it like it is. Also, I think that when he decided to do something he'd be utterly uninhibited in the same way he is with other areas of his life.

As Sherlock’s hands slowly moved up her breasts Molly felt as if she was going to explode with anticipation – she pushed down very deliberately on his lap, moving against him causing him to push up and groan into her mouth. He pulled away from kissing her neck and rested his forehead against hers, “minx, siren, delicious morsel of woman, come here” he growled and pushed up into her again while finally taking possession of her breasts with his clever clever hands. 

It was every bit as wonderful to be touched by him as in her most fevered imaginings. 

 

Sherlock suddenly felt as if everything was spinning out of control as if his, normally carefully controlled, Id had been given an Oyster Card, an American Express Black Card and a day out in London. It was going to make take full advantage of this opportunity. 

 

Molly was suddenly more fascinating than any mould or spore or ash – she was a veritable smorgasbord of possibilities and discoveries. Chemical reactions firing across their skin as Sherlock felt himself now painfully hard – like an animal with only animal imperatives. If that was the case then Molly was also devolving to her most base urges. She was hot and quaking in his arms and he had only one thought. 

 

Sherlock’s ability to analyse or go slow was gone. “Molly, can we now? I’m not sure I can wait, now, please………….” – all sense was gone only need roared in him like a strong narcotic hit.

 

Molly quickly rose from Sherlock’s lap, unbuttoned and unzipped him, pulled his very impressive equipment free, moved her clothes aside and sank down – even though it made her gasp. It took about five seconds from Sherlock’s plea before he was exactly where he wanted to be and his head was spinning with the sudden intense sensation. 

 

Molly pushed her dress up and pulled a breast free from her lacy bra and forced it into Sherlock’s willing mouth as she began to shake with the overwhelming feelings that besieged her. The feeling of his stubble against her breasts only serving to intensify her astonished arousal that it really was Sherlock Homes who was currently utterly wrapped up in her body and mind.

 

Sherlock was together enough to remember that Molly might need more specific assistance to achieve satisfaction and as he was racing fast towards his own he reached down to investigate her in more detail. It was easy to find what he was looking for and Molly’s sharp intake of breath and hissed out curse indicated he had found the right spot. Molly brought a hand down on top of his own to increase the pressure and pattern of his ministrations and soon things sped up, pulling them both closer. Well, Sherlock prayed that Molly was getting close because he was moments away.

 

It was a great relief when her movements suddenly became slower and deeper and she arched and pushed against him. “Fuck. Sherlock, I love you, I love you, sorry, sorry, God, urgh, more, that’s it, oh God” and with that he came deep inside her repeating her name like a mantra – not caring about the consequences of any of this. 

 

Then they collapsed back against the sofa, boneless and exhausted. 

 

……………………………………………

 

Gradually Molly came to her senses with Sherlock still deep inside her but she could feel him softening – that part of him now as boneless as the rest. His head was laid back on the sofa, his eyes tight shut as his chest rose and fell from his deep breaths. 

 

Molly shifted slightly and he slipped out of her. Them both soaked and tender. 

 

Sherlock shifted and lifted Molly off him and cradled her on his lap and tightly against his chest where she rested her head and listened to his racing heart beat.

 

“That was quick work”, chuckled Sherlock in a low rumble, giving her a tight squeeze and a kiss on forehead. “Do you get the impression, we both needed that?!” he added saucily as he reached out to tweak a still tender nipple and steal another quick kiss from her kiss swollen mouth.

 

Molly was beyond grateful for the petting and kisses – they staved off a panic that he would withdraw emotionally. 

 

“Sherlock, take me to bed. I’m knackered and if we’re going to do this again I want to be horizontal. And I need a pee. Sex like that spells cystitis I’m quite certain and a pee and a glass of water are probably vital” she added, always the medic. 

 

Sherlock huffed out another laugh, utterly unperturbed by biological practicality.

 

“Come on, we don’t want to add cystitis to the love bites and stubble burn do we”, he deposited her on the sofa, zipped himself up, closed the fire, straightened the cushions quickly checking for stains and then scooped her up in his arms and headed upstairs.


	11. In which Sherlock is exceptionally uninhibited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little ruder still. Sherlock is very unembarrassed by pretty much everything but he's definitely not bored.

Sherlock’s bedroom was simple but the bed was large and comfortable and importantly the bathroom was next door. 

 

Once in the bathroom with a pee and a tooth brushing out of the way (she prayed it was Sherlock’s brush she had pinched) she gazed in the mirror. Her hair was a like a mad bush and the tidy bun and yellow bow were long gone. Her lips were scarlet and puffy, reminding her of fertility displays in primates in heat, she had fairly advanced stubble rash and three enormous love bits on her neck. She peeked down her dress and saw her nipples looked as they felt, dark red and slightly chewed. She looked comprehensively shagged. She felt comprehensively shagged. Fuck it was bliss to feel his imprint all over her body.

 

What she really needed was a bath, she probably smelt like a ferret in heat, all body fluids and sweat but she had a willing Sherlock next door, one who smelt and looked as bad as she did, so what the hell.

 

Molly tip toed back to bedroom to find Sherlock stripping off. She just watched with delight as his delightful form revealed itself. “Enjoying the show?” he laughed as he turned round giving her a wonderful view. “You might say that!” she squeaked. Still capable of blushing it turned out.

 

“Come on, your turn. I want it all off – my turn to take a good look!” he said as he stepped forward and gave her a quick snog and pat on bottom.  
Goodness things had changed she thought as she quickly stripped on her crumpled yellow dress and wrecked underwear. 

 

Sherlock prowled round her like a hungry tiger, stealing kisses. Once she stood nervously in front of him completely naked he gave her one of his penetrating stares, making her feel doubly undressed.

 

“You are look quite delicious Molly, every perky inch of you” and with that he dropped to his knees and buried his face between her legs. Obviously Sherlock isn’t bothered by the whole Eau de Ferret aroma – she thought joyously as he began a very thorough investigation of Molly’s nether regions. He really was quite astonishingly uninhibited.

 

Molly hadn’t really expected more sex, let alone Sherlock falling to the floor to suck at her tender flesh. However, it seemed that her long fuelled desire for him was far from satiated and soon she has holding tight to his curls and issuing instructions. She nearly fell as she came, and would have if he hadn’t caught her and placed her face down over the edge of the bed.

 

“Molly, are you relaxed about this position” he muttered as he kissed her lower back just above her bottom.

 

Molly assumed he meant just to take her from behind and nothing more advanced but at this point she was up for anything and just adjusted her position to indicate her willingness.

 

Once more Sherlock sunk into her like a knife into butter and quickly set up a punishing pace of deep hard thrusts. She didn’t think another orgasm would be possible for her so quickly but his long clever fingers were soon plucking a tune from her as well as he had from his violin earlier that evening. It was just a few minutes before they both came again, this time more quietly in unspoken deference to Sherlock’s parents whose bedroom was at the end of the corridor outside his bedroom.

 

Molly pinched Sherlock’s shirt and shuffled off for another pee in the resigned knowledge of likely trouble in that department tomorrow. But happy none the less.

 

Sherlock was tucked up in bed when she returned with a glass of water. He looked exceptionally tired and rumpled and illegally attractive as he twinkled wickedly at her. "Come on Molly time for a kip, I think you’ve exhausted me in ways I couldn’t conceive. Actually talking about conception, that’s a conversation we haven’t had." He looked completely relaxed and not at all like a man asking about the likelihood of impregnation.

 

“Um, yes, good point. I’ve been utterly reckless” announced the appalled Molly.

 

“I wouldn’t worry Molly, I’m clean (certifiably so courtesy of the myriad of tests boring old Mycroft regularly inflicts upon me) and you’re clean and you’re not ovulating for at least another week I think”, he announced with soothing authority.

 

“How the hell do you know when I ovulate?!!” Molly asked with bewilderment as she hadn’t worked that one out herself without knowing her dates exactly.

 

“Oh! Well, you’re a bit ratty before your period and before you ovulate and when you’re ovulating your lips are a darker colour and a bit fuller. Also, I think I turn you on more easily when you’re ovulating – sometimes you look like you want to drag me to the floor or back me into the store cupboard!” said Sherlock cheerfully as Molly covered her face with a pillow and whined in mortification.

 

“I wouldn’t worry Molly, I either ignore it or feel flattered!”

 

“On that note let’s try and get some sleep, I need to be not too shattered to deal with tomorrow. And please, even if you decide this has been a dreadful mistake, don’t be an arse in the morning. I don’t wish to have to deal with that” said Molly with admirable honesty.

 

“Let’s save strategic negotiations until after a cup of tea tomorrow, I promise I won’t come over all ice maiden – I suspect I shall be trying to devise obscene ways to wake you without waking my parents. Now come on – night night” and with that he switched off the light and spooned up behind Molly and grasped her to him like a large teddy bear. 

 

If she hadn’t been so exhausted Molly would have been lying awake either beating herself up or pinching herself and panicking that this was a dream. However, Sherlock had completely tired her out and she was almost instantly asleep.


	12. The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with Mrs Holmes is predictably embarrassing but Sherlock remains remarkably frisky and candid.

Sherlock was true to his word and Molly was woken by Sherlock nudging at her in a rather intimate fashion, entirely poised above her in a very impressive press up – all weight save the critical bit kept off her.

 

“Oh” Molly gulped. 

 

“I thought that might do the trick” he said smugly as he collapsed all his weight on her and grasped her firmly by her hips.

 

“You kept groping me in your sleep so I decided to respond” he whispered as his mouth descended on her for a deep kiss that demonstrated Sherlock’s complete lack of concern about morning breath.

 

She tried her very hardest to keep quiet as Sherlock demonstrated yet again that all his tango and violin related skills were highly relevant – not to mention the very long fingers. However, she couldn’t supress a stream of steamy narrative praising his anatomy and abilities – this really was gourmet sex. Mind blowing, earth shattering excellence – goodness she was a lucky girl. Or as Mae West probably put it – goodness didn’t have much to do with it. 

 

Sherlock was much quieter but his hissed curses and muffled groans were evidence of his mutual engrossment in the proceedings.

 

Another sleep was unavoidable after that bravura performance and when she finally woke and checked the time she was astonished to see it was still only just after 7am.  
…………………………………………..

When Molly next roused, Sherlock wasn’t in bed with her but she could smell the mug of coffee on the bedside table and see a large bath towel folded up on the chair next to the bed.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake” came a familiar bass rumble from the other side of the room, where Sherlock was busy drinking coffee and texting like fury in a large armchair. Molly was surprised to see him wearing not the usual suit but a pair of tatty old cords, a Ramones T shirt and a man size pair of Paddington Bear slippers. 

 

Molly struggled to sit up, clutching the duvet to her chest and trying to push her hair out of eyes. “So that all really happened! Gor blimey” Molly cackled slightly to try and pretend she was feeling a lot braver than she really was.

 

“Yes, it very definitely did. Look at the state of my neck! I look as if I’ve been dancing the samba with a lamprey” reflected Sherlock without any apparent concern. 

“My mother was ecstatic when she saw me this morning. I got an extra slice of toast to ‘keep my energy up’ and got offered multivitamins. It was all most undignified.” He added with a slight smile.

 

“Oh Lord. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave this bedroom without dying of embarrassment” Molly wailed. 

 

“Actually Molly given that you look as if you have been repeatedly dragged back and forth through the proverbial hedge and I’m sure smell as ‘choice’ as I did this morning, I’ve taken the liberty of running you a bath, hanging up your dress and washing your underwear!” he added bossily.

 

“You’ve done what with my underwear!” 

 

“Sush, don’t be ridiculous, after last night I don’t see why that should bother you. I’ve seen a lot more than your knickers.” He grouched. “A thank you would suffice.”

 

“Yes of course thank you. And thank you for the coffee and bath. It’s just all a bit new – this sudden intimacy.”

 

“Well you know me Molly – not always good at anticipating other people’s boundaries! Although why it’s not too intimate when I suck your clitoris and stick a finger up your bottom but is when I handle your knickers - I don’t understand it all! Oh well perhaps some logic will emerge. Anyway, you now have clean clothes that don’t reek of intercourse and a lovely bath filled with my mother’s favourite jasmine bath unguent awaits you. Now off you go smelly!” He shot out cheerfully as he forced a cup of coffee into her hands.

 

Molly was beyond speech at this point but was allowed to drink her coffee before she was shooed into the bathroom where a deep bubbly bath waited for her.  
As Molly sank back into a cloud of jasmine scented bubbles she reflected that her life appeared to have taken a very unexpected turn, one that was going to involve a lot of blushing.

 

………………………………………

 

Molly’s clothes were waiting for her when she got back to her room – looking remarkably pristine given the battering they had received the day before. Molly felt particularly furtive getting into the same clothes but at least she was clean.

 

The day ahead was already scaring her. What was Sherlock going to say or want or expect from her? What sort of state would Tom be in when she called him – that thought made her feel awful and she feared his distress much more than his potential anger.

 

………………………………………

 

Molly wasn’t sure where Sherlock had gone but she took her courage in her hands and ventured down stairs.

 

Sherlock’s mother was in the kitchen reading the paper and she beamed at Molly as she looked up. “Goodness me, good morning Dr Hooper. What a wonderful morning it is too! Can I tempt you to some toast? The wicked boy told me to feed you. He’s looking for something in the attic at the moment but he should be back any minute I’m sure. By the way, you weren’t a lion tamer in a previous job were you? Or perhaps a bomb disposal expert?” Mrs Holmes asked with a twinkle in her eye.

 

Molly blushed scarlet and said that breakfast would indeed be wonderful. This was exactly as embarrassing as she had feared – but she couldn’t help but adore Sherlock’s mum who seemed so full of love and acceptance for her wayward offspring.

 

Over breakfast Molly finally got the courage to turn her phone on. There was only one message from Tom, it said “Molly, I think we both know this is over. Speak later.”

 

She decided to leave replying until later. There was so much she needed to discuss with Sherlock and she needed to pace herself if she was in for a series of potentially painful discussions.

 

………………………………………


	13. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with Mummy Holmes

Molly was plied with toast and boiled eggs by Sherlock’s mother and engaged in small take about the weather and the garden. The conversation was littered with titbits of information that made it clear Mrs Holmes was not only as mad and as brilliant as Sherlock and Mycroft, she was also very opinionated about the awfulness of marigolds in borders, instant coffee, fortnightly rubbish collections and having The Times in a tabloid format. 

 

She was amazing to talk too, like watching a one person cabaret, plus the revelations about her sons were fascinating. Mycroft’s obsession with poached eggs for breakfast, Sherlock’s almost psychotic loathing of Marmite, Mycroft taking Latin O’ level at seven years of age, a young Sherlock having been stung on the bottom by a wasp while on holiday in Greece and having had an onion publically rubbed on it by a very determined Greek grandma. The reminiscences unfurled and Molly was entranced.

 

All while she couldn’t help feeling that Mumma Holmes might have been eyeing her like a cat admiring a particularly fine mouse. That bit was a bit unnerving.  
Suddenly Sherlock burst into the kitchen clutching a dusty old card board box.  
“Ah good you’ve been fed. Did she offer you multivitamins too?” he asked provocatively.

 

“Sherlock, now do be a good boy and don’t embarrass Dr Hooper. And since you ask, I decided that she looked perfectly well and not in need of improved nutrition. Unlike you, you silly creature. Anyway I shall leave you love birds alone and go and find your father – I think he must have got lost somewhere in the garden and may need rescuing!” and with that she swooshed out of the kitchen.

 

“What have you got there Sherlock?” Molly asked cautiously. Hoping for family photographs and school reports not shrunken heads and biological specimens.

 

“Just some old books of mine I want to take back to Baker Street. Come on let’s find a quiet corner and have the conversation that you’re clearly worrying about.” He said gently.


	14. So where do we go from here....

“Right Molly. Cards on the table. I would like us to try and be something more than just good friends. That’s if you think you’ll be able to tolerate me. However, I have a couple of worries.”

 

“One is that, as you know, someone tried to kill John in a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Night. I don’t know who but I’m certain that it was to target me. I would like to work out what is going on with this particular threat before we’re at all public with any type of relationship. I don’t want you becoming a target for this person – they are quite prepared to kill.” Sherlock reflected solemnly.

 

“Also, I do need to be completely honest with you that sometimes in my work I’ve had to flirt or fake relationships or interest in women, and sometimes men, in whom I have no interest. But it was the only way to break those cases open. I felt entirely distanced from the matter and it was necessary. You might not feel good about that if we were seeing each other – no matter how open I am. I can’t promise that it won’t be necessary again. I’ve never had sex with someone but I have had to flirt and date and even kiss on a few occasions – it’s been exceptionally tiresome and invasive of my personal space, but needs must. I wouldn’t want to lie to you but I also cannot promise not to use that tactic if I need to.

 

“Only you know what you think might be acceptable to you.” He added.

Then just as she was about to reply he continued “But there are so many things I think we could bring to each other. We have shared interests, I would love to go dancing with you (I have longed for a dancing partner sometimes), we would have fun together and I don’t have much fun apart from the occasional serial killer! And that’s without factoring all the excellent sex I would be keen for us to have. So there are lots of potential positives too – but I don’t think I can bear the thought of someone like James Moriarty strapping you into a semtex jacket the way he did with John. Your brush with him was as close as I hope you ever get to a live serial killer ever again.”

 

Molly took Sherlock’s enormous hand in her own and looked up at him. 

“Sherlock, if we try this together then I would also want to keep it quiet for a long while. If you break my heart, I would like that to happen in private. Please let me finish. Also, I quite see the sense in trying to fathom this particular new threat. I’m not interested in lots of public affirmations – I just like you and like spending time with you – more of that would be good. It’s really that simple for me on that point.”

 

“Also, perhaps Mycroft could add me to some sort of watching security brief just in case I am targeted?” she asked cautiously.

 

“Molly you’ve had level three protection since before we faked my demise. But that’s been upped to top level since this morning – even Toby will have a security detail! Don’t worry they’re very subtle and I won’t allow cameras in the bedroom or bathroom! Or maybe that should be in either of our flats at all – why limit ourselves to two rooms!” he said affectionately as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

 

“Oh right – well that shows how unobservant I am! I do hope I haven’t been chatting up M16 agents all over the place for the past couple of years!” she added, worrying about all those times she’s walked around her flat in the nude – hopefully there wasn’t an M16 archive of film of Molly Hooper eating cereal in the buff! Well, despite the lack of privacy, since she knew what people like Jim were capable of, she welcomed this news.

 

“Well you have once or twice – but don’t worry they all adore you apparently!” he added with a grin.

 

“Back to your point about what you need to do in terms of your work. Well of course I’d prefer it if that wasn’t part of what you do but if the chance of that is the price of this well then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” She reflected slightly mournfully. “But on the having fun and dancing and talking and laughing and experimenting – in the lab and bedroom – that would all be lovely Sherlock. You are lovely Sherlock. If rather astonishingly uninhibited!!” she added as she leaned over to capture his delectable mouth in yet another kiss. 

 

…………………………………….

 

After several minutes of delicious snogging during which Molly lost of all sense of time and space and Sherlock overwhelmed her with his height, enormous hands and rather dramatic kissing technique (she did feel like a very lucky violin), they were interrupted by a loud cough and some throat clearing. “Congratulations, Brother Mine, it appears you’ve had a major inter-personal breakthrough! Good morning Doctor Hooper – you’re brave woman.” announced Mycroft rather superciliously as he towered over them.


	15. In which Molly out manoeuvres Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft starts off being a bit of an arse but it all works out well in the end.

“Good morning Mycroft” squeaked Molly feeling intimidated by Sherlock’s formidable brother.

 

“Mycroft, I’ll make you regret it if you’re going to be a cock!” hissed Sherlock, instantly spoiling for a fight but still not withdrawing his arm from round Molly.

 

However, his mother bustled round him and hissed “be nice” very loudly.

 

“Of course, I’ll be nice Mummy. Dr Hooper is about the only person I know who is professionally and emotionally qualified to endure everything Sherlock throws at his nearest and dearest. Even John Watson doesn’t get exposed to the full range – does he dearest brother!” added Mycroft condescendingly. 

 

“Anyway before we get waylaid by a squabble I came to offer a lift up to London if you’d like. I’m taking Mummy and Daddy out for lunch then we can head back if you would like. And before you question my motives Sherlock, yes I was hoping we might discuss something in the car on the way back. 

 

Oh, Doctor Hooper, I’m afraid I may require you to sign The Official Secrets Act or could always provide some good ear defenders for the journey back!” added Mycroft with what looked ever so slightly like a half smile.

 

“I hope you’re not bullying Molly!” threatened Mrs Holmes with an actual growl.   
“Quite the opposite Mummy, hence the offer of ear defenders!” replied the miffed Mycroft. 

 

“Ear defenders, how delightful” replied his mother sarcastically.

 

“I’m not sure we actually want the bloody lift. What do you want to talk about Mycroft?” said Sherlock with a tone that was starting to get a little icy. 

 

Before Mycroft could come up with a biting reply Molly interjected “actually, Mycroft I’m rather surprised you didn’t know that I’ve already signed The Act. A Scotland Yard requirement over a terrorist thing a while ago. Well I suppose you can’t know everything!” replied Molly with a slight smile. “However, I might take you up on the ear defenders anyway if I’ll have to listen to you two bickering all the way to London!” she added rather firmly as she gently snuck her hand under the table and caressed Sherlock’s thigh soothingly.

 

Mycroft looked rather affronted that such a thing could be possible and Sherlock actually grinned in the presence of his brother – rather a rare occurrence. Mrs Holmes just looked admiringly at Molly.

 

“Well the dearest boy, isn’t quite omniscient, are you my love” Mrs Holmes added with a warm smile of affection as she planted an enormous kiss on the affronted Mycroft’s cheek. “Anyway, enough of this. I’ve booked The Five Alls for lunch, shall I add two to the booking Molly? Or would you rather have my darling drama queen to yourself while we’re out!?” She added with a saucily raised eyebrow.

 

“Well you could ask me too!” grumbled Sherlock.

 

“Yes dear. However, Molly is the guest and we play nicely with guests if you both remember!” said his mother with the same growl she had used earlier.

 

Molly hooted with laughter and Mrs Holmes grinned at her, obviously delighted to have an ally.

 

After some more bickering it was decided that Sherlock and Molly would give lunch a miss but accept the lift back to London.

 

“It’s a shame dear, the food there is delicious, their Baked Alaska is a thing of positively supernatural splendour, and grumpy is buying!” added Sherlock’s mother “I’ve bought tickets for Miss Saigon and wanted to break the news over pudding – I thought the Baked Alaska might soften the blow!”

 

Mycroft looked faintly sick, before Molly exclaimed, “Oh I love Miss Saigon, lucky you! It’s a rather good cast at the moment I believe”. 

 

Mycroft and Sherlock both turned to stare at Molly as if she’d grown a second head and a third arm, before Mycroft quickly offered Molly his ticket and dinner at the Savoy and offered to buy an extra ticket for Sherlock. Molly laughed and said that perhaps she could just go with Sherlock’s parents as she was fairly sure that wouldn’t be Sherlock’s thing. Leaving the almost furious Sherlock instantly relieved. Mycroft wasn’t sure whether to be generally thrilled or slightly miffed at having this opportunity to out manoeuvre Sherlock suddenly whipped from him.

 

Suddenly Sherlock realised that not only was a great deal of sex and interesting conversation going to be on the menu, and potentially an increased supply of body parts, he also now had the world’s sweetest parent sitter. Sherlock started thinking of erotically gratifying ways of ensuring that Molly remained happy and willing at all times given her newly discovered super power. 

 

“Sherlock, you know your expression is rather transparent!” Molly whispered in Sherlock’s ear with a giggle. “However, I do actually love musicals, Miss Saigon is a favourite, as is the American Bar at The Savoy, and I think your parents are adorable – so don’t think either of you are being clever!” and she swatted him on the bottom affectionately.

 

Mycroft’s mood was positively benevolent from that moment on and he suddenly turned and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Let’s go and inspect the roses, Mother Dearest and see if we can extract Daddy from his shed.”

 

Mrs Holmes was obviously ecstatic at the sudden outbreak of peace and happily linked arms with Mycroft as they left the kitchen.

 

“Molly, this has never happened before! You are not only brilliant, beautiful, amazing with a scalpel and a thing of carnal glory – you are a Holmes Whisperer! We better go back to my bedroom, I don’t wish to embarrass you and I will if we stay down here a minute longer!” And with that he tugged her to her feet and dragged her upstairs.

 

………………………………………….

 

As Sherlock bolted the bedroom door firmly behind them and turn to face Molly she felt suddenly overwhelmed with the truth that in this minute he was truly hers.

 

“Sherlock, just stand there. Let me undress you. I’ve spent so many years admiring you, just indulge me a little.” She asked slightly hesitantly.

 

“Your wish is my command. Do you want me to go and get my coat, scarf and gloves too, so you can really do this properly!” he said with a very saucy look.

 

“Oh yes please” she positively squeaked, cheeks reddening a little at the thought of what lay ahead.


	16. You know I don’t think Paddington Bear boxers are really the most obvious choice for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is intensely romantic - while wearing (although not for very long) Paddington Bear boxer shorts.

Sherlock was out of the door and flying down the stairs to retrieve his coat and accoutrements, leaving Molly goggling slightly as she tried to plan how she was going to approach the task of making this sexy for the impetuous and easily bored Sherlock. She was still pondering this when it hit her. She was going to make this all about what she wanted and had fantasised about – it didn’t have to be an elaborate game. This was about being free to satisfy some of her almost painful longing for him. 

 

As he walked in the door, Sherlock was taken aback at the frankly predatory expression Molly had on her face as she looked at him. There was nothing innocent in the look at all.

 

“So how would you like me Molly?” Sherlock asked in a sexy rumble.

 

“Put your coat, scarf and gloves on and lock the door and let me live out a few fantasies. The put your collar up and ruffle your hair a bit and give me one of your deducing looks!” she murmured with a glint in her eye.

 

Sherlock immediately put his bored haughty face on and stared at her while he flipped his collar, adjusted his scarf and ruffled his hair just so.

 

Molly slowly walked towards him and took a hold of the end of his scarf and rubbed her face softly against the blue cashmere. It smelt amazing – that delicious Sherlock smell of wool, cigarettes and whatever soap or cologne Sherlock regularly used. 

 

She slowly walked towards him and loosened and removed his scarf. Sherlock just kept his steady gaze and complied with her movements and wishes.

 

Next she unbuttoned his coat and snuggled inside and wrapped her arms around his waist and listened to his heart beat. It was something she had longed to do so many times and being able to completely wrap herself round him, snug inside his beautiful coat made her feel something indescribable. Or perhaps it was describable, because it was as though she had been in pain for years and had suddenly noticed the pain was gone.

 

Molly looked up at Sherlock and smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss. He opened his mouth for a deep passionate kiss and Molly plunged her hands deep into his messy curls. 

 

Soon Molly regretfully turned in Sherlock’s embrace and tugged his gloves off and threw them to on the floor alongside his scarf. Next Molly pushed Sherlock’s coat off his shoulders so that it slid down his back and arms and pooled on the floor behind him. 

 

“Shame I didn’t have one of my suits on too” Sherlock murmured “we’ll have to try this again – perhaps in one of the storerooms in Barts” he rumbled as he caught Molly’s mouth in another deep kiss.

 

Molly looked down at Sherlock’s still slipper clad feet “I have to say Paddington Bear slippers were almost more unexpected than everything else that’s happened in the past 24 hours,” said Molly with a beaming smile. 

 

“Anthea gave them to me for Christmas! I get the impression she doesn’t take me very seriously you know!” Sherlock huffed out with a laugh.

 

“Well off they must come too.” And she knelt down to remove his slippers. Molly looked up at Sherlock who was suddenly rather still. “Actually these tatty old cords better come off too I think” she said rather breathily and she reached up to unbuttoned and zipped his trousers and gave a tug to pull them down and he stepped out of them too. She also decided then and there that since she’d had to wait a very long time for this satisfaction she was going to let him wait for what he might perhaps be anticipating.

 

Sherlock’s enjoyment of this process was plain to see once he was stripped to just his T shirt and pants. 

 

Molly hadn’t seen Sherlock get dressed this morning so this was her first viewing of what must also be a Christmas gift from Anthea. “You know I don’t think Paddington Bear boxers are really the most obvious choice for you either!” Molly added with great delight as she reached out and pulled these down too.

 

Sherlock’s modesty has covered by his Ramones T shirt but it was evident he was enjoying her company. Molly stood and pulled Sherlock down for another deep kiss and pushed herself against him – unable to resist the lure of his body for much longer.

 

“You can take that off yourself” muttered Molly as she stood back to watch as Sherlock unselfconsciously shucked his shirt and stood there look rather more like Michelangelo’s David than really ought to be allowed. Well apart from one very large difference from the famous statue that is.

 

Molly wrapped herself around Sherlock and latched on to one of his nipples giving it a strong suck. It sent a shiver through him and he held on to her head stroking her long hair.

 

“Come on my turn” he said. “I don’t want that dress getting all rumpled again after all my efforts.” 

 

Quickly Molly was stripped of her clothes (which were very carefully place over the back of a chair by the fussy Sherlock) and wrapped in his embrace enjoying the marvellous feeling of his skin against hers.

 

Suddenly Sherlock scooped her up and carried her to the bed, pausing only to pull the covers back as he deposited her on one side and crawled in after her.

 

“Right - warm, cosy, horizontal sex coming right up Dr Hooper! I felt so frantic last night and this morning – but I just want us to take our time this time. I feel like everything I thought I knew about you has got to be relearned. I’m looking forward to it.” With that he pulled her gently to him and smiled his sweetest smile and began to kiss her.


	17. "Lovely doesn't really cover it darling"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading back towards normality

By the time Mycroft and his parents were back from their long lunch and a leisurely trip round the garden centre (the very thought of Mycroft being dragged round a garden centre was pure bliss Molly concluded), Sherlock and Molly were up and dressed and drinking tea and looking perfectly respectable bar a couple of extra love bites on Sherlock’s neck. 

“Ah good, you’re all ready to head off I see.” Said Mycroft bossily as he marched into the kitchen. “Have you got that box from the attic Sherlock?”  
“Yes, yes – I remembered what you said. Quite a good idea really.”

“Lovely to see you both, thanks for having us to stay”, said Sherlock dutifully as he kissed his mother on both cheeks and politely submitted to a long cuddle and then a handshake that turned into a bear hug from his father. 

“She’s completely lovely – well done!” muttered Sherlock’s father to him as him have him an extra pat on the back. “Lovely doesn’t really cover it darling” said Mrs Holmes as she grabbed her husband for a hug. “She’s a blooming miracle working, adorable, angel of sanity and patience! It’s so nice to see someone really understand how completely gorgeous and wonderful you are my darling boy!” she said as she rushed in for another hug. 

Sherlock looked increasingly more appalled at all the fuss. Molly was scarlet in the face and didn’t know where to look (although she was flattered to be liked so much) and Mycroft looked like he was going to be sick. “Thank you for having me” she squeaked before she regretted her choice of words as Mycroft retorted “I’m sure the pleasure was all his” with a smirk.

“Mykey – I said no bitching you naughty boy” scolded Mrs Holmes as she grabbed him for another hug. 

Molly was very grateful that she managed to fall asleep in the car on the way back as she was finding the emotional rollercoaster of the Holmes family’s interactions thoroughly exhausting.


	18. A bit of EQ to go with the IQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny bit more as I'm up against lots of work deadlines.

Back in London, Sherlock got them dropped at Molly’s flat. That they dropped her off at her place was surprising in itself, she’d anticipated a schlep back from Baker St, but that he chose to come back to her flat too was more surprising – she had expected him to want to rush back to normality and perhaps away from her too.

 

But doors were opened for her and the kettle put on. It was all most unnerving.  
“Sherlock, are you alright?” Molly asked with a slight quaver in her voice.  
“Yes, perfectly” replied Sherlock as he fussed with the tea, complaining about the quality of her tea, milk and sugar.

 

“It’s just you’re being very well behaved – what with the doors and tea and stuff. Just checking how you are. After all, we’ve had a pretty ‘unusual’ day or so”, Molly tactfully asked.

 

“Ah, you’re worried, I’m feeling something and not saying it or that I’m being nice because I’m about to drop you like a hot potato!” said Sherlock enthusiastically as he decoded her real meaning.

 

“Molly, if you must know I’m trying to be a gentleman as you look knackered and bit fragile. You’ve not had much sleep, you’ve had a long car journey in close proximity with my brother and you’ve got a very difficult phone call or meeting with Tom scheduled for right about now. I thought you might like a bit of moral support. Also, I’m practising not being a total arse – well trying at least. How am I doing? Oh and here’s your tea. I really must arrange some better supplies for your cupboards if this is now a regular ‘thing’ because the current supplies will be insupportable over an extended period.” He replied with gentle smile that Molly was beginning to get used to.

 

Molly felt reassured and amused by the earnestness of his reply. “That’s really good to hear!” she said simply and she gave him a hug and a kiss and gratefully accepted her cup of tea.

 

“That’s a very nice thing for me to get used to. Right now, tea then call or call with tea? And do you want me to go out while you call or hide next door and pretend not to listen? He asked with slightly inappropriate jollity.

 

“Go and lie on my bed and drink tea and pretend not to listen. Toby will be thrilled with the company – for some reason he seems to adore you. Sensible cat.” Molly replied as she began to feel her anxiety built about calling Tom.

 

………………………………………………………………..

 

Tom was sad and angry on the call. He questioned her truthfulness and everything she’d ever said to him. All Molly could say was that she thought he was a lovely, good, dear man and that she had very much wanted to marry him when she said yes. She admitted that Sherlock coming back had made things different but she had always known he was really alive so it wasn’t that that had affected her feelings. The truth, she admitted, was that it took her a long while to realise that perhaps she wasn’t suited to ‘normal’. Her enduring affection for Sherlock was more a symptom of her own nature and not a statement about him per se. 

 

Tom was polite if frosty and said he hoped that they could be civil and perhaps even friendly one day and that he would appreciate having the ring back as it had been expensive.

 

Molly said she was sorry, that of course he could have it back and that she hoped he would have the happiest of lives because he deserved that, a thousand times over.

 

And then they made arrangements to exchange possessions that would avoid meeting up in the near future and wished each other health, happiness and contentment.

 

It was sweet and sad – but the honesty of it made Molly feel better and emotionally ‘cleaner’.

 

Listening to Molly’s conversation made Sherlock feel ashamed of his derision of the other man. Tom was clearly in love with Molly, or rather with his perception of what and who Molly was, and was deeply affected by the loss of their love. He was also obviously working very hard not to be too bitter or aggressive. All things that raised the man in Sherlock’s estimation. Sherlock reflected that he himself should try to remember that intelligence wasn’t always the thing that mattered most.


	19. Sucking up to Toby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets himself into Toby's good graces

While Molly was on the phone Sherlock decided it might please her if he played and fussed with Toby, so the ridiculous creature was currently lying on his back in Sherlock’s arms with his legs in the air while Sherlock stroked his tummy. It was easy to work out what made Toby happy, he hoped very much he would be able to work out what worked for Molly.

 

Molly came into the bedroom to be greeted by the unlikely sight of a blissed out Toby swooning on his back in Sherlock’s arms and had the presence of mind to take a photograph before ‘Sherlock realised what she was up to.

 

“Very funny I’m sure!” he grumbled.

 

“Anyway, come and have a cuddle – I’m told they help. Well Toby liked his anyway” he offered gently.

 

Molly went willingly into Sherlock’s arms, although Toby wasn’t very impressed with being relegated to the bed, and held tight and tried not to feel awful about Tom and scared about the future. She wondered at what point she would stop fearing Sherlock’s enthusiasm for her was just a dream she was about to wake up from.

 

“Stop thinking and give me a kiss” Sherlock demanded as he swooped in for an intense and intensely distracting snog. “I know you’re feeling bad about Tom, who I will confess is a decent man, if not a very bright one, but I know exactly how to distract you! We haven’t christened your flat yet and I’ve long imagined pinning you down in this bed and doing unmentionable things to you.”

 

“You have?”

 

“Well tried not to imagine actually, but the thought has kept cropping up and having to be locked away! I guess that’s what happens to a man if he keeps waking a woman he cares about up in the middle of the night by bursting into her bedroom without knocking. I think I’ve seen every set of nightwear you own – some of them are pretty skimpy you must admit.

 

“Combine that with a blush, scarecrow hair and a grumpy half a asleep expression – and your delightful breasts nearly on show and a man would have to be made of ice not to be somewhat affected?” muttered Sherlock into Molly’s hair.

 

“Well I thought you were made of ice!” said Molly quite reasonably.

 

“It appears we were both wrong on that front does it not?” replied Sherlock cheerfully as he started to remove Molly’s clothes.


	20. I do like a woman in a white coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly wonders what her new 'normal' is going to be like

Once Molly went back to work on Monday morning Sherlock grumpily returned to Baker Street to get back into his normal routine but he had made sure to promise Molly that he would see her in the next few days and would stay in touch. It felt a bit strange to say something like that because he wanted to reassure and because he meant it – it was normally a fobbing off approach taken with his parents – but mean it he did.

 

Molly found being back at work surreal, as if the world had tilted on its axis but she was required to carry on as if nothing had happened – but that’s what she did. It was hard to believe she had only been away for the weekend. By 11 she was feeling a bit anxious. Work was going fine, but was this thing between them going to survive the minutiae of normal.

 

However, she needn’t have worried. At 11.15 the doors of the lab swung open and Sherlock marched in with Greg Lestrade in tow.

 

“Hi Molly, you okay. I didn’t see you leave on Saturday. Did you and Tom have a row?” Greg asked gently. As well as rather fancying Molly he admired her tremendously – she was so reliably great at her job and helpful to him. He couldn’t imagine how she tolerated Sherlock’s bloody awful behaviour but she was a bloody saint for that too.

 

“I’m okay Greg. Yes a bit of a falling out you might say. I think weddings can do that, you know, put your own relationship into a perspective that might not be that flattering. Anyway how can I help you gentlemen?” She said in a friendly neutral tone as she waited to see what Sherlock was going to do. 

 

They had agreed to keep things private, but not a secret. So no kissing in public or dates in highly public places but also not a vow of silence - or something somewhere between the two. Sherlock hadn’t been particularly specific, just muttered about not putting a target on her back and being discreet. 

 

“Ah, yes Molly! We’re here to see Mrs Brown, I believe she would have been delivered in the early hours – a suspected suicide, but I’m not so sure. Can we take a look? By the way you look particularly lovely this morning, I do like a woman in a white coat! Right, Mrs Brown?” and he breezed off towards the morgue leaving a blushing Molly and a slightly speechless Lestrade.

 

“What was all that about!” exclaimed the astonished DI.

 

“Well, Sherlock’s being nice to me at the moment. Not sure how long it will last so I’m just going with the flow!” Molly tried to say in a vague sort of breezy way. 

 

Greg narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Is he up to something? Don’t let him persuade you to do anything unethical, well unnecessarily unethical, or dangerous – you know how persuasive he can be when he puts his mind to it!”

 

“Don’t worry, this is more of a general pleasantness rather than a targeted one I think! Anyway, we better run if we’re going to catch up with his Lordship!” she laughed as they scuttled off after the long legged Byronic one.

 

Sherlock spent the next couple of hours in the morgue and lab and while he was subtle, he did manage to stroke her bottom on four separate occasions and place a quick kiss on the end of her nose while Greg was facing in the opposite direction.

 

Molly was sure Greg could tell there was a different vibe as he kept giving her questioning looks and raising his eyebrow as Sherlock continued to be unremittingly polite and well behaved to both of them.

 

“Well what’s up Sherlock – you’re in a very good mood! Fixed an ancient cold case on the quiet? Got one over on Mycroft? Come on, something’s up, I can tell!” Greg cajoled.

 

“Well you are amongst Scotland Yard’s finest, I’m glad you can tell something is, as you say, up!” he twinkled naughtily at Molly as he said this last bit. “But I’m afraid it’s a secret so you’ll just have to keep guessing – meaning my secret should be pretty safe!” he added with a pleased smirk. 

 

“Silly sod, have your own way! At least you’re being quite civilised for change!” Lestrade laughed.

 

Once Greg had left. Sherlock was on her like a spider after a fly and she found herself back up against the cold storage drawers in the morgue. 

 

“Sherlock, I’m not making out with you in here!” she exclaimed as he grabbed her hips and made a dive for her lips.

 

Sherlock was about to start persuading her when she grabbed his hand and demanded that he follow her. Delighted with the bossiness he meekly followed as she dragged him out of the door and down a corridor he hadn’t explored before. Soon he found himself being backed into a large supplies cupboard and being hauled down to Molly’s level by his collar.

 

“You bad girl!” he growled as Molly made quick work of his trouser fastenings.


	21. A little storage cupboard smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little frisky in a storage cupboard at St Barts

Sherlock reflected that life was full of surprises as he looked down at Molly in the almost dark of the cupboard they had hidden in. He realised that it was thoroughly undignified that two adults had hidden in a cupboard at the command of a bunch of tyrannical hormones that were raging round their systems but he couldn’t even begin to really care. The sight of Molly on her knees finally delivering on a fantasy he wasn’t even aware that he’d had was as alluring and bewildering as it was shocking. It that moment his body was as far from ‘just transport’ as it had been in a very long time with the exception of his narcotic interludes. 

 

Molly was just a little bit rough, a little too much tooth, a little too much suction, a little too much nail and her silky hair brushed against him. An utterly perfect mix of sensations. He was rendered silent by its intensity and the overwhelming trust and intimacy required by both participants for this to be such a transcendent experience. 

 

When he was close to finishing he warned her but she only gazed up at him and let go. He felt the loss immediately, a powerful almost painful sensation as though a tidal wave had been paused in motion and was pushing against the magic that was holding it back.

 

“Sherlock, I want to, I want everything about you” she said with bruising honesty.   
Before he could answer, Molly bent back to the task in question and Sherlock felt as if he had been plugged into the mains, as if the tidal wave was free to move again.

 

They were both silent save for the sound of gasped breaths and finally Sherlock had what he felt sure was one of the most intense physical experiences of his life. He staggered back against the wall as Molly let go. Sherlock hauled Molly to her feet and picked her up and held her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck. “Molly Hooper, you have bewitched me.”

 

………………………………………………

 

Finally, going down on Sherlock after years of varied and torrid fantasy, was almost frightening in its intensity for Molly. It was the sense that he was holding nothing back from her physically, he was solely with her in those raw moments. There was no cleverness, no humour, no perspective - just physical connection. She felt both like an enchantress, as he had suggested, but also like a supplicant finally being granted a long sought after blessing.

 

They were both shaking as Sherlock held her, however it wasn’t long before Molly’s own unsated needs roared to the front of her awareness. She didn’t need to say anything as Sherlock seemed to sense instantly when her desire roared into being and he placed her swiftly on one of the shelves and rapidly undid buttons and zips so that soon he could devour an eager breast and push his clever and very determined hands up her skirt. Molly was quickly soaring towards satisfaction as Sherlock demonstrated the useful application and devastating impact of intense concentration and excellent dexterity.

 

Molly managed not to scream but she was certain anyone walking past would have heard her undignified squeaks and gasps. But truly she was beyond caring. Jeremy Hunt could have opened the door and demanded a parliamentary enquiry and she would have ignored his presence.

 

…………………………………………………………………….

 

It took them a little while to straighten up and then a little longer to wait to ensure that the coast was clear and they could emerge without running into anyone in the corridor.

 

Molly had no idea how long they had been hidden away and was astonished when she realised it was only fifteen minutes. It seemed like hours.

 

“Come on Molly, I’m stopping you working. Not that I feel guilty, but I don’t want you regretting anything we do together. I need to use the equipment in the lab for a bit longer but I promise no more hijacking you for gymnastic displays until this evening” he said as he ruffled his hair and straightened his collar. 

 

“How on earth I get back into work mindset, I don’t know” muttered Molly as she stumbled to her desk. 

 

The timing was pretty good as within a minute Greg was back in the lab. “Ah, you’re here - good. You weren’t answering your phone. I’ve got some security footage I want to show you”.

 

“Right, back to the Yard it is. See you later Molly. 7pm at Baker Street – oh and ask a neighbour to feed Toby tomorrow morning!” He announced very clearly as dived in for a quick rather dodgy tasting snog before adding “oh yes and bring a toothbrush!” and dragging the shocked and open mouth Lestrade out of the lab.

 

A scarlet faced Molly was left alone to gather her wits and her paperwork as Sherlock marched off down the corridor a little too fast for tricky conversation. Although Molly suspected he would get interrogated by Greg in the car on the way back to the Yard.


	22. In which Sherlock is interrogated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade proves to be a more efficient interrogator than Sherlock would have expected.

“Sherlock, what the hell is all that about!????” Greg Lestrade almost shouted as he ran to keep pace with Sherlock as they headed towards Lestrade’s car. 

“If you hurt Molly Hooper, or are using her in some way, there are a lot of people who will be very very angry with you. And I’m one of them. She loves you and has had to put up with nothing but insults and demands. What about Tom? What is going on? Is this about John getting married? What is going on?!” Lestrade demanded as he started to get rather worked up about the idea of dear decent Molly being torn apart emotionally by a thoughtless Sherlock.

“Lestrade – calm down and listen. Honestly you’re getting quite hysterical. You sound like John” sighed the thoroughly irked Sherlock.

“I shouldn’t have been so bloody indiscreet. It’s my own bloody fault for trying to warn you off I suppose” he continued.

“What!!” shouted the even more confused Lestrade.

“Look Gavin.”

“It’s fucking Greg, you arse, go on explain yourself!” ranted the still thoroughly furious policeman.

“Oh do shut up! I’m trying to explain if you’d just stop gesticulating and pontificating while in possession of absolutely no facts!” shouted Sherlock. He was started to get very irritated.

“Alright, explain away!” 

“Short version – Molly and Tom split up on Saturday – nothing to do with me. Well not me intervening in any way. Molly was sad and we got talking after she left the reception. She came back to my parents with me. We’ve spent some time together and have decided to try and see how being together works. It would appear that I have accidentally and unexpectedly become attached to Molly in a way that is about more than her excellent clinical and deductive skills. She’s become more than just a good friend and I’m trying to be honest with her about myself. Yes there’s a staggering amount of sex involved but that is a by-product of our affection and connection. We are, it seems, very well suited “ Sherlock rushed out as he tried to provide the furious Lestrade with enough information to shut him up.

“A staggering amount of sex!” repeated the astonished copper.

“Oh dear, I shouldn’t have said that should I? All these boundaries are very boring to remember” muttered Sherlock.

“Also, we’re not planning on making this a public thing at the moment as I’m worried about her being targeted the way John was in November. It would be different if Molly was living with me and I could protect her a bit more but that isn’t the case yet so it’s best if we’re discreet.”

“Living with you yet!” repeated Lestrade – realising he was starting to sound like a parrot as he began to calm down as he processed the shocking information.

“Also, I’m going to have to do the whole fake dating trick sometimes during investigations, and it simply won’t work if Molly and are a public thing.” Sherlock added.

“You bastard, you can’t do that to Molly.”

“Do calm down, you are becoming very repetitive. Molly and I have discussed this quite openly and she says that she’s ready to accept that that might be necessary on occasion although she obviously would prefer that it doesn’t. I really have tried to be straight with her as much as I can” sighed the thoroughly fed up Sherlock. 

“Could my private life please go back to being private now and allow us to get back to the case?” He continued.

“Okay, have it your way. I’m not sure what I’m more astonished about – that Molly has agreed to put up with you or that you are admitting to being a flesh and blood man. Anyway, don’t think the subject is dropped. And if you’re a bastard to her you will hear about it from me!” Lestrade growled as he gave up trying to make sense of these mind altering new facts.

…………………………………………………………..

Sherlock was furious with himself for letting his desire to keep Lestrade away from Molly lead him into the indiscreet farewell that in turn led to his actually not so short explanation to Lestrade. So much for keeping it between just them. Oh well damage done and perhaps at least Gavin would stop sharking after Molly at last he thought grumpily.


	23. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Smallwood pays Sherlock a visit.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on tumblr was very rude about this chapter because Molly is unkind about Janine in it so I thought I'd explain my reasons. It's not because I didn't like the character of Janine or perhaps Molly might too. It's because I'm imagining how Molly might feel if she'd been to a hen night and a very pretty very confident woman might have been saying 'I wouldn't mind a piece of that Sherlock Homes - yum." and being saucy the way people are at hen nights. Molly loves Sherlock and then miraculously seems to have won him and then he's saying he's got to try and pretend to have a relationship with someone she hadn't much liked. It's not bad mouthing Janine at all - just trying to imagine how Molly could feel in those circumstances. She didn't look too happy in the wedding photos when Sherlock and Janine posed together and I've extrapolated that and of course people don't always like each other - even if they're both nice people.

Thai takeaway devoured and additional lust slaked, Molly and Sherlock were sitting by the fire drinking tea when Lady Smallwood arrived. Molly offered to hide in the bedroom when the doorbell rang or to leave. But Sherlock looked out the window and insisted that it was fine for her to stay.

 

Molly had seen Lady Smallwood on television before but not like this. She looked aged and her eyes were red. 

 

“Hello Lady Smallwood. You’re an unexpected visitor. Does Mycroft know you’ve come to see me?” He asked very politely and with a gentleness that demonstrated a degree of sensitivity that he would have probably denied having.

 

“Well I haven’t told him as I’ve only just decided that I needed your help. But that’s not to say he doesn’t know”, the older woman replied demonstrating an in-depth knowledge of the older Holmes brother’s modus operandi.

“I have a friend, Dr Hooper from St Barts, with me this evening. You may speak freely in front of her, I have trusted her with my life and feel certain that you can trust her discretion.” Sherlock said as he motioned to Molly to keep her seat. 

 

“Tea or something stronger? You look in need”, Sherlock asked as he offered Lady Smallwood a chair. 

“Tea please with sugar, I need something for the shock” she replied in typically English fashion.

“Lady Smallwood, have my seat by the fire, I’ll go and sort out tea. I’ll be right back”, Molly said as she shot out of the sitting room to give the obviously distressed woman a little privacy.

……………………………………………………..

After Lady Smallwood had left Sherlock was deep in thought and Molly sat on the floor against his knees and enjoyed watching the fire as he played with her hair. 

 

After about an hour of sitting in this dream like state, Sherlock finally spoke, “Molly, I think I may have to do some of those things I told you my job necessitated sometimes. I’m worried how you will feel. I don’t want to lose whatever this is becoming. However, Magnussen needs tackling and I need to use every lever and method available to me. Will we survive this? Will I make you hate me? Will you still want me?” he wondered softly. 

 

“Sherlock, I just want you not to risk your life. And I would prefer to not be publically humiliated if that can be avoided. The rest is up for negotiation really but don’t ever expect me not to tell you the truth again. If we’ve done nothing else, we’ve stripped away any pretence between us I hope.”

 

Sherlock told Molly he was going to start chatting up Janine in order to prepare for needing access to Magnussen’s office. 

 

“How absolutely fucking typical. I finally get you into my bed and you are obliged to start making manoeuvres not just on a woman I know, but one I very much dislike! She is a brassy loud mouthed exhibitionist Sherlock, she was so vulgar on the hen night it was grim and I cut up dead bodies for a living and am not easily put off! How the hell are you going to pull off wooing a woman like that?” said Molly angrily.

 

“Look, it’s just acting. I thought she was quite good fun, but you know me. I don’t go around ‘fancying’ people” Sherlock replied with a look of bewilderment and slight revulsion on his face. “It is bloody miracle that you seem to have somehow loosed my libido Molly, given how successfully repressed I’ve managed to be over the past few years. In fact I’m almost of a view that you are my new drug of choice. It’s all about you, not about wanting anyone other than you” he said as he reached down and hauled her up on to his lap.

 

“Well, I suppose you did warn me. But fucking hell – why did the universe decide that Janine was the thing that I’ve got to put up with. It’s simply not very funny” groused Molly, somewhat soothed as Sherlock now had his hands up her jumper and was idly stroking her breasts without really noticing what he was doing.

 

“I just don’t know how else to try and gain any advantage over this man. He is total poison. Murderously calculating and utterly ruthless. This isn’t just about Lady Smallwood, he has damaged so many lives. Lives of people trying to get on with living despite secrets and differences. He must be stopped and I don’t think anyone can stop him – he owns too many important people. He is a dealer in fear and humiliation. It’s vile.” Said Sherlock with great intensity.

 

“Molly, I need you but I need to do this too. I’m sorry.” He muttered into her hair.

 

Molly turned in Sherlock’s arms and pulled him down for an intense kiss. It was easier to lose herself in the delirium of sex with Sherlock rather than to dwell on the plan he had outlined.


	24. So where do we go from here....2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to get her head around the whole Janine 'thing'

After a slightly restless night, Molly woke early and found Sherlock wasn’t in bed.

She grabbed an abandoned dressing gown from the end of the bed and went out in search of a cup of tea. Sherlock was lying on the sofa with his hands in his familiar steepled position, obviously miles away in his mind palace thinking through the problems they discussed last night.

Molly headed for the kitchen to make tea and left Sherlock to his ruminations.

“How are you this morning?” he suddenly announced, his bass rumble making her jump as she picked her way around the kitchen trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Ok!” Molly squeaked in surprise, suddenly feeling awkward even after all they had shared physically over the past few days.

“No need to squeak, unless you would like me to really make you squeak” he huffed out with a laugh as he jumped off the sofa and strode quickly to the kitchen to wrap Molly in his arms almost before she’d had time to draw breath.  
Molly was about to reply when the hug became a kiss, which became a deep tonguey snog that made her forget all about her earlier sense of unease. Who could have imagined that he would be so instinctively successful at doing whatever was required in any one moment to reassure her.

“Right Molly, what shall we do? Breakfast, sex, and conversation about our conversation last night, you race to work or sex, breakfast, conversation then race etc? What’s it going be?!” Sherlock asked with slightly more bounce that was probably appropriate for the subject of the conversation. 

“Conversation and breakfast seem a good place to start” she said giving him a friendly peck to demonstrate that sex could still be on the agenda but not wanted to verbalise that it rather depended how the conversation made her feel.  
“Sherlock all I want is to understand how to function around this situation. How to be with you during it, or if we take a pause, I’m just not sure what you’re thinking and I’m certainly not sure what I’m thinking. It’s such early days for us as a couple and then this comes along and I’m freaking out a bit.” Molly rushed out quickly as she poured the tea. She was keen just to get this bit out of the way.

“Right okay. Cards on the table. I need to find a way to progress things against Magnussen. Janine, is a potential way forward for me. I don’t want to do this to you and also I don’t want to do this to her as she seemed a perfectly nice woman. Don’t give me that look. I’m not attracted to her but she was very friendly and pleasant and seemed unfazed by me. I don’t have a problem with her but I would under normal circumstances have probably forgotten her name by now. In fact in addition to feeling bad about upsetting you, I really also ought to feel bad about planning on leading her up the garden path – but this is really important. You have no need to feel threatened.” Said Sherlock with great seriousness.

“Really?” said Molly rather shakily.

“Yes, really.” Sherlock replied with great emphasis. “To be honest, you would be more on the money if you felt sorry for Janine. What I’m proposing to try is pretty cold. John will have a total fit. But needs must.” 

Molly had to admit she would rather be in her position that Janine’s. She imagined the way it would make her feel if he was just faking everything that had happened between them over the past few days.

“Sherlock, I would be very grateful if you don’t do anything on this case that will get you hurt or take you away from me. Just promise me, even if you can’t really promise me.” Molly said with great intensity.

“Molly, I can’t promise to stay safe but I do promise to try. That’s the best I can do if you want me to stick to the truth.” Sherlock said gently as he lent down to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Also, please just don’t tell me what you’re doing with Janine, all I need is a heads up if I need to avoid a restaurant or a specific place. I just don’t want to know. But I would like to keep seeing you if we can make that work while you’re on this case, just keep me in the dark on the bits I can’t bear to think about. Ok?” Molly concluded.

“Ok, I’ll stick to your rules. But perhaps you should let me have a copy of one of your new door keys, you’re going to get pissed off with me picking your locks in the middle of the night otherwise! Right hurry up with that toast, we’ve got some things to do before you race off to work.” Sherlock murmured as he began to stroke Molly’s bottom.


	25. Blurred lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become intensely complicated

Over the next couple of weeks Molly and Sherlock’s relationship settled into a sort of rhythm. He would pop into Barts for work but also for little social visits – with cups of coffee and sandwiches and back her into her office or a handy cupboard and kiss and make out with her intensely before having to head off suddenly. He would appear at funny times of the night in strange outfits and smelling odd. Often he would head for the shower before crawling into bed with her. Several times she was woken by the feeling of his hands and mouth on her coaxing her into wakefulness. It was a dream-like mix of normality and fantasy.

They also had what could only be described as ‘date nights’ – Sherlock took her to pubs out in the countryside and one time dancing to a very odd club in a warehouse in the back of beyond. She wouldn’t have believed he could dance like that if she hadn’t seen it – and the sight of Sherlock’s arse wiggling in time to Blurred Lines while wearing tight jeans had been an almost orgasmic experience. 

She was also amazed to find that is was possible to be even more intensely attracted to him than before. So, much for satisfying long standing desires and hungers. All this seemed to do was make her ravenous for his company and his body.

All this gradual intensifying of connection and oddly fractured bits of time together made Molly feel permanently dizzy with anticipation. This, mixed with all the questions she was preventing herself from asking about the case and what was happening with Janine, meant that the morning John called and said he’d just retrieved a stoned Sherlock from some drug infested doss house was a visceral shock. As if everything she’d been feeling and experiencing might be a lie, as if he was like a soap bubble and about to burst and leave her forever. 

As Molly waited for John and Sherlock she kept remembering on a loop all the drug overdose victims she had autopsied. Hundreds of awful images of young and old lives snuffed out raced through her head. She knew about Sherlock’s drug problems in the past but she couldn’t reconcile the images in her mind with the beautiful brilliant man she had loved for so long and with whom she was now more in love than ever. She felt almost on fire with fear, confusion, love and rage. 

…………………………………………………………..

Sherlock wouldn’t look at her when John dragged him into the lab, accompanied by Mary and two young men – both of whom looked as dirty and bedraggled as Sherlock. And Sherlock actually stank of drugs, sweat and urine. 

Molly hadn’t seen John and Mary since they returned from honeymoon and she knew from Sherlock that he hadn’t either. Also, it was fairly clear that Lestrade hadn’t yet had a chance to spill the beans about Sherlock and Molly.  
Molly wouldn’t look at Sherlock – she couldn’t bear to see whatever would be in his eyes and Sherlock avoided Molly’s gaze for the same reason.

.............................................

In his whirl of chemically heightened thoughts all Sherlock could feel in Molly’s presence was a mix of shame and defiance. She wasn’t saying anything but seemed to almost be physically shrinking from him. He felt as if the warmth and reassurance of her love was being ripped from him – surely if she really loved him it would be unconditional his angry scared inner child ranted. He imagined her berating herself for abandoning the sainted idiot Tom. The more he waited for the test results (which he knew would be damning) the more worked up he felt. He could hear Mycroft’s voice mocking him for ever imagining he could be worthy of anything as rare as unconditional love and what on earth was he expecting.

So when Molly finally looked him in the eye and accused him of betraying those he loved – and he knew that she meant most explicitly that she meant herself and of risking his life – he couldn’t stand to answer with the truth – that despite the case, the lure was too strong, that he’d made excuses and dived back in and hadn’t known how to pull back or rather hoped that he would know but hadn’t tried yet. 

This fear, shame and regret made Molly and Sherlock vicious.

Before she knew what she was doing she had slapped Sherlock twice and she only gathered her wits as her hand was about to deliver the third.

Sherlock spat out his cruel comments about her engagement imagining her regret at leaving the no doubt saintly, if idiotic, Tom.

…………………………………………

There was a stunned silence in the lab. To John and Mary the shocking intimacy of Molly striking Sherlock would have seemed unreal. This wasn’t an act between strangers. This was intensely personal and angry and very much between the two of them.

………………………………………………

Before anyone had time to question what was happening, and before Molly could recover from the shock of what she had done, Sherlock got a text message and marched from the room with a stream of unhelpful and confusing declarations.

……………………………………………

Molly was left sitting on a lab stool with Mary gazing at her with a piercing knowing look. Molly realised it felt just the way being deduced by Sherlock felt. It was a revelation to her, why hadn’t she noticed this side of Mary before. She’d always seemed still and wise and full of humour and perspective but this was different. It was a little like an owl had suddenly turned into an eagle.


	26. Unconditional love

It was after midnight when Mycroft called her. She didn’t recognise the number but not being the sort of person to screen her calls she picked up.

 

“Molly, it’s Mycroft here. It’s Sherlock, he’s been shot he’s in recovery but we’ve nearly lost him twice. He’s screamed your name twice in recovery and I think you need to be here. An agent will be there to pick you up in a few minutes – will you come? I know you fought earlier, but he needs you. I think my mother will need you to once she gets here. Will you come?” Mycroft rushed all this out with uncharacteristic haste, a slight break in his voice. 

 

“Shot? Mycroft. Where, how, why, please God tell me he’s going to make it. Please.” Molly sobbed, almost unable to breath from the violence of her response.

 

“Yes, he shouldn’t have survived. It’s a miracle really. His heart has had to be restarted several times. But somehow he’s doing well now. Maybe that’s his real superpower – being utterly determined to have the last word.” Said the exhausted sounding man. “Please come Molly, I think you presence will comfort him.”

 

“Of course, I’ll go and get dressed.” Molly confirmed as she rushed into her room to haul on some clothes. 

 

Molly was overcome with guilt that their last interaction was so awful. She realised more strongly than ever that her love truly was unconditional – it’s wasn’t the drugs that made her slap him, it was the terror of losing him. 

 

…………………………………………….

 

At the hospital, John was beside himself and was relieved when Mycroft returned to waiting room. 

 

“They’re going to move him to a private room with ITU facilities in a few minutes. He’ll have a nurse and an intensivist with him for the next 24 hours at least until he’s considered reliably stable. My parents and Molly will be here soon too. I think they’ll let us all in as it’s a private room.”

 

John looked up surprised “Oh, how did Molly know? Did Greg call her?”

 

“No I did, I know it’s a bit odd him having a girlfriend, but apparently he was saying her name in recovery (although your wife’s too, which is odd) so I’m sure it will comfort him to have her here. I have to say I was rather surprised when they got together. He really has got very keen on all this having relationships with people thing. Must be exhausting.” Said Mycroft, pretty much to himself.

 

“Girlfriend?!” repeated the bewildered John.

 

“Yes, sorry didn’t he tell you?” replied Mycroft.

 

“Um, I’ve just seen him propose to Janine, Mary’s bridesmaid. Admittedly that was a fake thing to get to Magnussen. But what the hell is he doing pretending to date Molly too? If I wasn’t so fucking relieved he’s alive, I’d thump him” exclaimed John.

 

“Oh yes, Janine! Yes a fake romance. Not Molly though. That seems to be genuine. I’m not sure if she knew about the Janine thing though. Well I guess we’ll find out in the next hour or so! I told him relationships weren’t a good side-line if he was serious about his work. He seems to have gone completely feral, they’ve been having intercourse in cupboards all over St Barts I understand. I think they’ve even made some of my extremely hardened surveillance agents blush and I’ve had some of the recording equipment in both their flats muted – all that sex talk is so unutterably vulgar, not to mentioned derivative and repetitive.” grumbled Mycroft as he began to relax as he started to believe that Sherlock was going to survive.

 

“I go away for a few weeks and he’s back on drugs, has two girlfriends, becomes a shag-monster and gets shot” I knew we should have taken him with us. He’s not safe left unattended” grumbled John, now also started to believe that Sherlock was going to pull through but hardly believing all the things he’d seen and heard today.

 

……………………………………

 

Molly arrived at the same time as Sherlock’s parents and Anthea and got wrapped in a huge hug by his weeping mother. “Oh my boy, my poor boy” Mrs Holmes repeated as she hugged Molly tight. “Come on, let’s go and force some love on him, while he’s incapacitated and can’t refuse what he needs”, she added with great determination as she took Molly’s hand and marched after Anthea and Sherlock’s father.

 

……………………………………..


End file.
